Tea Stained

Every so often I splurge and order a few varieties of green teas from http://www.amazing-green-tea.com/

The teas on this site are well described: where it is from, how it came to be, the conditions under which it is grown, what grades there are available, as well as how it’s harvested and prepared and what it tastes like. You can almost see the founder, Julian Tai cradling each cup of tea as if it was a favored child.

I consider ordering tea another part to the whole tea ritual.  Before you ever savour any of the teas there is the process of discovery, as you read each over each tea’s information. This is followed by agonising over which tea, or teas, to order. And then there’s the growing anticipation of delivery.

 And today I received my winter stash!

So, on my long-awaited (not really) ‘Tea Day’, and with Man-wonder out, and Mom watching her favorite baseball team (Blue Jays), I decided a little experiment, let’s call it a one-woman tea party, was a good idea.

First I picked out the strongest of my new teas (strong being a harsh word but you get my drift). Then I gathered together an everyday skookum Fiesta ware mug, a little dinky-ass-for-sissies commercial-type mug, and finally, a lovely fine China cup.  I wanted to see if my  taste buds could detect any differences.

Everything started out fine. I poured the water, scattered the right amount of tea leaves in and let them steep just the right amount of time and was mildly disappointed when I failed to find a difference between teas in the Fiesta mug of tea and the commercial mug of tea.

So it was on to the china cup. And that’s when things got ugly at my tea party. It took me three tries before I actually tasted the tea in the china cup. First try—I picked up the ultra-light cup up with the same heft I would a Fiesta ware mug and threw the tea at my mouth. After a careful mop of face and blouse I tried once more. Buggered if I didn’t do the same thing again only this time Man-wonder arrived just in time to see me in action.

“You know you’d save a bundle on laundry soap,” he said as he settled in with a smirk, “if you’d just eat and drink naked.”

I would, except there’s not enough room in my closet. . .

(And no—sadly all three tasted the same.)

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